


Flight of Angels

by Mizmak



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, Flying, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Sweet, Wings, lots of flying and soaring together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22334902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizmak/pseuds/Mizmak
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale decide to try flying together  -- that's pretty much it.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	Flight of Angels

Crowley fell asleep, as he often did after an evening of dining and drinking, on the bookshop sofa. Usually it was merely a nap and he would wake an hour later to find Aziraphale sitting nearby in his favorite chair, reading.

This night, however, he dreamed.

Crowley rarely had dreams, and he didn’t particularly care for them. Too often, unpleasant images from his past would surface, and there were plenty of those to go around.

This night, however, he dreamed of something wonderful that he hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

He dreamt that he was flying.

Black wings spread wide, he soared on an updraft above the Earth, high enough to reduce the cities and towns to mere pinpricks of light.

He had used his wings fairly often in the early times of his life on Earth, when there weren’t many people about to notice. As time progressed, though, with fewer and fewer unpopulated areas, this grew harder to do, for a flying person would cause alarm. And so he had curtailed his flights. It had been centuries now since he’d gone aloft. He didn’t realize, until the dream, how much he missed that freedom.

This night, when he woke on the sofa, he found a concerned looking angel kneeling by his side.

“Hey,” he murmured sleepily, rubbing a hand across his eyes.

Aziraphale touched his arm. “Are you all right? You cried out – in your sleep.”

“I did? Sorry.” He didn’t remember. “What did I say?”

“Not words, only a cry – sort of a moan – not sure how to describe it. As if you were disturbed by something.”

_Something he had lost_. Crowley shook his head. Only the memory of flight remained, not the pain of losing it. “No, it was…nice.” He shifted his legs round and sat up. “I dreamt that I was flying.”

“Ah. Those _are_ lovely dreams.”

“You’ve had them?”

Aziraphale sighed. “Far too seldom.”

“Don’t think I ever had one before.” Crowley leaned against the sofa back. “I haven’t flown in centuries. I used to. I miss it.”

Aziraphale rose from his kneeling position. “So do I.” He gave Crowley a long, assessing look. “Why don’t we?”

“Humans,” Crowley replied. “Prying, intrusive humans.”

“Do you want to, though? That sound you made – it wasn’t a happy one.”

Crowley wished he could go up into the skies once more. “I wanted to, yes. I wanted it to be real.” 

He could tell by Aziraphale’s yearning expression, eyes wide, brows furrowed, that he wanted to soar, too. Angels ought to fly – he had never seen Aziraphale in flight, rarely even seen his wings. How splendid he looked, with his white wings unfurled. “But how can we?”

Aziraphale glanced out the bookshop windows, at the brightness of the city streets. Then he smiled. “It’s the middle of the night. Who is there to see?”

“Oh, I don’t know. A few million Londoners?” _What was he thinking?_

“When was the last time you looked up at the night sky over London?”

“What?” Crowley frowned. “Well, I – “ Then he realized that he never looked up at night. There was nothing to see. London had far too many lights blocking the stars. All this time, it had not once occurred to him that the night sky here was by far the safest place to soar. “Angel, do you think we truly _could?”_

Aziraphale looked at the ceiling. “Even if a handful of people saw us, what would they think? If we went high enough, they wouldn’t know what we were, not in the dark. Even if someone photographed us, it wouldn’t look like anything _real_.”

He had a point. Humans had so many clever ways of manipulating reality these days, with their clever computers. Who would ever believe that a photo or video of angels in the skies over London could be true?

He hadn’t flown in centuries. Crowley stood and stretched. “Is there a roof access?”

“Of course.” Aziraphale took off his coat and hung it up neatly. “I don’t need that flapping about.” He motioned towards the back of the shop. “Come along, it’s this way.”

Crowley followed him up a flight of stairs to the second floor landing, then down a short hallway to another, shorter stairwell that led onto the roof. 

Thank goodness it was August – the night air felt warm and inviting. There was a light wind, too, good for flying. “Do you think we can find an updraft?”

“Let’s find out.” With a shake of his shoulders, Aziraphale’s beautiful white wings unfurled. “ _Ah…_ that feels so good.”

“Better get up there before someone looks out a window.” A shiver of excitement coursed through Crowley as he spread out his black wings and shot upwards into the sky.

Aziraphale zoomed up beside him as they climbed higher and higher, not actually flying yet, but merely using their miraculous powers to rapidly lift themselves above the city. 

When he deemed the distance high enough, when the lights below were small enough, Crowley tapered off his ascent and leveled off. He flapped his wings slowly, tentatively at first as he reacquainted himself with their flexibility and strength. As he grew more comfortable, he circled round, feeling the wind, searching for drafts that would help him to soar.

“Over here, my dear.” Aziraphale hovered twenty feet or so off to his left, waving one arm. “Lovely winds this way.”

Crowley went to him. The angel reached out his hand, and Crowley took it, and they found the right balance, the perfect point of harmony as they flew side by side – arms outstretched, hands clasped, wings gently moving them through the night air.

There were stars up here.

They flew through the darkness, wafted along by the light winds. They soared through the night, white wings next to black. Together they turned and circled a bit higher to catch a better breeze, and flew on, sometimes dipping down a ways, or up again, always seeking the best currents the sky could offer.

_Freedom_. Crowley held the angel’s hand in his, and he felt free.

“Let’s go farther,” Aziraphale called.

“As far as you wish,” he replied.

They turned southward, away from the city lights. He gazed earthward, and saw flickers of light from the smaller cities and towns as they headed towards the Channel. 

They flew for a long time. When he gazed across at Aziraphale, he saw nothing but joy on the angel’s face. They were so close together that their wing tips brushed in a soft interplay – not enough to interrupt their smooth transit, only enough to be a whisper of communion.

Past the cities, past the towns, on to the coast, on to the Channel…they soared over the dark waters, dropping lower and lower until Crowley felt cooler air over his face. He closed his eyes for a few moments as he breathed in drafts of sea mist.

“Up,” Aziraphale called. Crowley opened his eyes and followed the angel back up to the heights, into a bank of wispy clouds.

Up there in the softness of the thin clouds, Aziraphale stopped, hovering, and Crowley slowed his wingbeats to match the angel’s.

“Follow my lead,” Aziraphale said, his face glowing. “I want to have some _fun_.”

Whatever he had in mind, Crowley was game. “Go on, then.”

Aziraphale grinned. “Hang on, my dear.”

He grasped the angel’s hand tightly as Aziraphale suddenly swooped downwards in a headlong rush.

Crowley gasped as he held on, as he let his angel lead him through a series of dives and rolls, then swept them upward again, briefly levelling off among the clouds before diving again in a heady descent. He went _fast_ , and freely, and they dove and soared and dove and soared with absolute abandon.

_Freedom_. Crowley clung to his angel’s hand, and he pulled in close alongside him. At times his body brushed against Aziraphale’s as they went into a spinning roll, then separated as they swung out of it.

Aziraphale laughed, and shouted wordless cries of joy as he tore in and out of the clouds. Crowley felt the rush of air against his face, and the caress of the mist.

They fell together, they rose together, over and over, in a soaring, floating, exquisite dance. His wings had never felt so strong, nor his command of the air so masterful, and Crowley knew this feeling came from the strength and the power and the love of the angel beside him.

Aziraphale held him above the Earth, held him in the heavens of night, and he would never let him fall.

He had fallen a long time ago – he had fallen from on high…not because he had wanted to, but because he had been destined to.

And now he had reached the heights once more, because an angel carried him there, willingly, _freely_.

An angel carried him into deliverance from his past…into salvation.

At last Aziraphale slowed his wondrous flights and guided them back to the light, thin clouds.

And there they paused, and held themselves upright, using a little miracle to support their bodies in mid-air. 

Aziraphale drew Crowley closer, grasping his other hand as he pulled them together. They hovered there in the midst of the thin drifting clouds, facing each other.

They were in the heavens. Above him, he could see faint stars through the cloud tendrils. Below him, the watery depths. He had fallen from Heaven…but he couldn’t fall from here, not from this sky.

His Angel faced him, only a foot away, gazing at him with an undeniable love. 

Crowley released one hand so he could touch Aziraphale’s face. “Thank you.” He thought there might be tears forming in his eyes. “It’s heaven up here.”

“Up here,” Aziraphale replied, “you look like an angel.”

“Do I?” Definitely tears. He couldn’t keep them back. “You know that I never meant to Fall, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale brought up his free hand to brush away the tears from his cheeks. “I do know. You should never have faced such torment.”

No, he should not have done so…punished for no crime… _bit of an overreaction, if you ask me_. 

_But, if he hadn’t fallen…_ where would he be – in Heaven, not on Earth. A place without the only one who mattered, a place full of love that held no one for him to love – an emptiness in eternity.

“Angel—“ He caressed Aziraphale’s cheek. “You saved me.” He touched his lips lightly. “I love you, and you _saved_ me.”

A soft breeze parted the clouds. Darkness wrapped around them as Aziraphale gently took Crowley’s fingers away from his lips, and leaned in to kiss him.

There surely were stars everywhere, but Crowley didn’t see a single one. And there must have been moonlight shining somewhere, but he didn’t care. He was being kissed by an angel.

Warm lips pressed against his own in a soft, slow caress. Their lips parted, then met again in a stronger exploration, and at the same moment, Crowley drew his wings inward, toward Aziraphale’s wings, black feathers mingling with white. As he opened his mouth to take in more taste, more touch, more everything, he felt loved beyond measure. 

And their wings merged – feathers intertwined with feathers, light interwoven with dark, sunlight and midnight as one.

A light vibration spread along his spine, then through his whole body to reach across to his angel, and as they kissed again and again, their wings quivered in an intricate, intimate cadence all their own.

When at last they paused to catch their breaths, Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, holding tightly as the angel returned the embrace, while tremoring quavers spiraled through them as their wings curved round, cloaking them fully.

He rested his head against Aziraphale’s, nuzzling his ear. Were they two beings, or one? His heart and mind and soul could not tell where his body ended and the angel’s began. He’d been there, after all…they _knew_ each other’s forms…but unlike that temporary experience, _this_ was a true merging, a _oneness_ , a _whole_.

“I had no idea,” he whispered into the angel’s ear. Nothing in six thousand years of living had prepared him for _this_ – this love sublime.

“Nor had I.” Aziraphale’s wings briefly tightened, sending a new tremor through them, then relaxed. “I love you – more than Heaven or Earth.”

“Yes?” Crowley pulled back to gaze into his eyes. “ _Yes_.” 

There were stars everywhere, and he saw them shining. The moonlight was there, playing through the clouds in the distance. There were so many stars….

“My dear,” Aziraphale said into the magical air, “shall we fly once more?”

He nodded, and smoothly disengaged his wings, spreading them out to their fullest extent. “Home?” He smiled. “That is, the bookshop, of course.” His only home, ever.

“ _Home_ ,” Aziraphale replied.

He took Crowley’s hand, and they flew away, back across the water, back across the countryside, soaring high as the winds would take them, back to the city lights.

And if anyone saw them, Crowley thought as he moved his wings in tandem with Aziraphale’s, what they saw was only two angels sailing together through the seas of heaven.


End file.
